The Outtakes: When Boys Play
by Loads of Randomness
Summary: For all those missing scenes in "When Boys Play". Did someone actually catch them on video? How did Hetty know they had got into mischief?
1. WBP: The Video

**AN: If you haven't read "When Boys Play", I advise you do so. It will make the ensuing hijinks a lot easier to understand. This chapter is for all of you guys who wanted to know if anyone caught the boys' shenanigans on video.**

**This scene is set between Chapters 1 and 2 of "When Boys Play". **

"Dude, are you getting all this?" an unkempt looking teenager hissed to his friend.

The black-haired boy, who couldn't be older than twenty, grinned back at him and held his iPhone aloft, pointing it in the direction of the multiple raised voices.

"You bet."

"That's that new one, right Zayn?" a blonde girl asked, looking at the phone admiringly.

"Yep," 'Zayn' said proudly and then waved his hands at them all impatiently in a shushing gesture. "Shh, we're missing this!"

The blonde girl hung onto Zayn's elbow and stared at the scene unfolding in front of them.

"Do you think they're actually going to do something with that tyre?"

A smaller girl rolled her eyes and popped her gum obnoxiously, "Don't be ridiculous, Mel. That scrawny guy," she pointed at the gangly blonde in shorts, "couldn't lift a carboard box never mind that tyre."

"But the black guy though, with those bulging muscles," Mel said with a dreamy expression on her face.

"Hey! I don't need to hear that!" the unkempt teenager complained.

"Oh, shut it Marcus," Mel scolded, not tearing her eyes away from the arguing LAPD officers. "Who do you think those other guys are?"

"They're probably a gang," Zayn said dismissively, standing on his toes to try and get a better shot.

"They don't look Mexican though."

The small girl rolled her eyes and said in exasperation, "Seriously, Mel? Do you really think only Mexicans can be in gangs? Check your racism, girl!"

"This is LA, Ashleigh," Mel said defensively.

"Exactly! We're like the meltingly-ist melting pot to ever melt."

"That made no sense," Marcus informed them with his own eye roll.

Ashleigh made as if to slap him only to be interrupted by a "Woah," from Zayn. He had even lowered is phone.

"That's impressive."

"I didn't know that spinning tyres could look so threatening."

The nondescript man was currently spinning said tyre between his hands with an extremely terrifying glare on his face. His was saying something heated to the taller of the LAPD officers. His whole stance screamed "I can kill you" to Marcus, he would definitely not want to come across the dude in an alley. He'd probably leave with no limbs.

"This is so going to get me a million views," gloated Zayn, focusing his camera so it zoomed in more.

"Why d'you think they're arguing with those officers?" Mel asked curiously. "It's like they came out of nowhere. I don't think they even _did _anything."

"They came from behind those crates, not out of nowhere," Ashleigh retorted impatiently. "You can't just pop out of nowhere."

"If they're ninjas, they could," argued Mel.

"Ninja's aren't real, stupid," Marcus told her.

"How do you know?" she demanded belligerently, with a stubborn tilt to her chin. "What else could they be?"

"People against authority, gang members, druggies (two of them look like they could be homeless), secret agents, the mafia" Marcus counted off.

"Maybe they're drunk," Mel added.

Zayn snorted, now trying to get closer to the scene, "Secret agent is so the least likely. I'm going for druggies who are already high."

Marcus looked over to the guys in question. They were getting louder and more aggressive now. One of the LAPD officers was turning a very impressive shade of purple as he poked the long-haired guy in the chest repeatedly. Apparently, aggressive shouting and alpha-mal behaviour didn't get you anywhere with police officer, who would have thought?

The other blonde was waving his hands above his head, looking like he was trying to explain something. His glasses were bouncing up and down his nose. He was literally the only one who didn't look threatening. At least the long-haired blonde had muscles1

"True," he conceded. "This doesn't take any skill at all."

"Yeah, we could totally argue with LAPD," said Mel.

"You _have _argued with LAPD," Ashleigh pointed out in amusement.

"I totally didn't deserve that ticket!"

Marcus ignored them, having heard this argument far too many times before, and focused on the far more interesting scene in front of him. The LAPD officer was now getting into the long-haired guy's personal space and bellowing like a bull.

The big guy definitely didn't take too kindly to that.

"Ouch," said Mel as they all winced.

"That's gotta hurt."

There was a thudding noise as the black guy snatched the tyre out of the unassuming guy's hands and _shoved _the tyre at the officers. The tyre didn't even roll, it was pushed so hard.

The officer who was giving the long-haired guy grief was practically doubled over in his pain and wheezing heavily.

Even the other three guys looked shocked at their pal's behaviour.

Zayn was practically drooling at all this "great" footage, bouncing back and forth of the balls of his feet. His footage was going to make his viewers motion sick if he wasn't careful with how he swung that phone of his.

"This is _definitely _making my channel famous!"


	2. WBP: The Punishment (Again)

**AN: The results of the previous chapter. Set after the events of "Facing their Partners".**

Hetty motioned to Nell to replay the sixty second video for a third time. Her boys winced as tyre caught McHughes in the gut. Yep, that was _definitely _the point of no return for them. Kensi snickered in the background. She looked like she wanted to ask Hetty to play it again (he was responsible for the first replay) but took pity on the boys.

"Do any of you have a reasonable explanation for _that_," the small woman demanded.

Silence.

"Miss Jones?"

Nell went to push the play button again when Deeks burst out, "No, please don't!"

He _really _didn't need to be reminded of the reason they had to be bailed out by Hetty. They probably could have talked their way out of all the taunting and only have gotten threatened to be reported to Hetty if not for that stupid tyre.

"Oh, please proceed then, Mr Deeks," Hetty said dangerously.

"He really should have gotten out of the way," Deeks said, trying to put a roguish grin on his face, it made him look constipated. "Like, this isn't a Looney Tunes cartoon."

Hetty peered over her glasses at him, "And what pray tell would you suggest someone do when a group of federal agents forcefully rolls a tyre at you?"

The shuffled their feet at that, none of them having an acceptable answer.

"Hmm, I thought so," Hetty said disapprovingly.

"I'd like to point out that we have already been punished," Callen commented, taking life into his own hands in breaking the silence.

"I'm not even a federal agent," muttered Eric to Callen.

"Something to add, Mr Beale?"

Eric's eyes widened comically as he vigorously shook his head.

"No ma'am."

"Hmm."

"It's not like the video shows our faces," tried Sam, wanting to sooth his boss' ruffled feathers.

"There shouldn't even _be _a video, Mr Hanna," Hetty scolded.

"We can't control the public," complained Callen.

Hetty turned to stand directly in front of him, a glint in her eyes, "But you can control yourselves, Mr Callen. After all, that is what each of you is trained to do."

"I'm sure Eric can delete it," Sam said soothingly. "Right Eric."

Eric compulsively tweaked his glasses before stuttering, "Actually, now that it's been uploaded to their servers and viewed all I can do- "Sam elbowed him sharply in the ribs, "I mean, yes. Yes, of course I can fix this."

"I'd like to point out that I wasn't the one who threw a tyre at them, if that helps my case any," Deeks said hopefully, Callen and Eric nodding on either side of him.

"I didn't _throw _it," Sam grumbled.

"But you did assault Officer McHughes with it," Hetty stated matter-of-factly.

"He assaulted Deeks first!"

"I would hardly call poking him assault," Hetty scolded. "You're better than that."

"He touched one of our own!"

"Technically, Mr Deeks is both theirs and ours."

"More like ours," Sam said insistently. "When have they ever had his back?"

"Your loyalty, while admirable, is rather too intense, Mr Hanna. Brain over brawn, if you please."

Deeks flushed at that, not knowing how to defend his technical colleagues and not really wanting to. Sam had a point, he had never felt as safe at LAPD as he did here at NCIS. And this was, like ten times more dangerous! He coughed in embarrassment.

They both turned to look at the source of their argument.

"I'm good with Sam sticking up for me," Deeks ventured to comment.

Hetty glared at him.

"But he went at it completely the wrong way," Deeks continued hurriedly.

"Hmm," was all Hetty said.

The boys exchanged nervous looks with ach other. Surely, she would punish them again? Even three days after the incident all their hands still ached from the amount of polishing thy had had to do. Deeks hadn't been able to look at that particular polish ever since, he had insisted that he and Kensi get a different one for home use.

Hetty inspected each of them carefully, with that unblinking stare of hers, before returning to her desk. She looked like a stern headmistress scolding a group of unruly teenagers. Which, admittedly, is what she had been feeling like recently.

What to do with them this time, though? She picked up some papers from the DoD and shuffled them absentmindedly while she thought. They had been appearing in front of her a bit too often recently. This lesson would have to stick. Hopefully for a few months this time.

"I think the gun range could do with a full clean out and documentation," Hetty said blandly, not looking up at them and appearing completely uninterested in them.

All of them groaned loudly.

They may as well clean out the whole mission while they were at it.

"Don't tempt me," said Hetty, quirking an eyebrow at them.

Their jaws dropped.

How did she even _do _that?

**AN: Any other scenes you want to see from "When Boys Play"? I'll keep adding chapters for as long as the ideas come in!**


	3. FaTP: The Musings

**AN: Set after Chapter 3 of 'Facing Their Partners'. Review and tell me what missing scenes you want to see!**

Owen Granger resisted the urge to slam his head against the wall, he didn't feel like giving himself a concussion or facing Henrietta's wrath for 'damaging history'. Why the powers that be decided on an old Spanish era building as a home for recalcitrant and highly skilled NCIS agents with short tempers and quicker fists was beyond him. He was surprised the damn thin hadn't burned down from within.

Anyway, he shook his shoulders and straightened up. Back to why he wanted cause himself bodily harm.

Manage the OSP Office they said, less politics than Washington and more complex operations they said. The weather was pretty much perfect and the people more interesting.

Owen shook his head in frustration. He should have been suspicious at the mention of 'interesting people'. He had been seduced by the opportunity to work with and annoy Henrietta again. Not to mention the stories he'd heard about these people that worked for her.

Too bad no one had mentioned how _crazy _these people were.

Seriously, Agent Callen was meant to be one of _the _best operatives who had ever worked for NCIS and Agent Hanna had the best work ethic and strategic mind that even the military envied. Agent Blye had a skill set few could compare to with that rifle and wit of hers and even Detective Deeks was strangely competent and highly valued. Then there were those two meerkats, as he had taken to calling them. They were some of the best intelligent minds he had ever seen. Why were they all so _strange_?

He had witnessed more strange behaviour in this office than he had seen with his old team in Vietnam, Afghanistan _and _the old Czechoslovakia. And he had been partners with _Henrietta Lange_.

Was it Henrietta? That woman had a tendency towards the odd and terrifying. And, of course, each of those people he had just mention met those parameters _perfectly._

None of that explained the two scenes he just interrupted. Wasn't there a rule about that sort of behaviour? Where was Gibbs when you needed him? Owen groaned and rubbed his eyes, trying really hard not to listen to the conversation that was going on at the other end of Ops.

He wasn't sure what pair was odder, Blye and Deeks or Beale and Jones. And, of course, he had to encounter them at their weirdest today.

Blye and Deeks disturbed him on the best of days with their antics but he really didn't want to know what might have happened if he hadn't interrupted them. He was half tempted to go back to the meerkats and ask them about Blye and Deeks' so called 'backstory' for their 'cover'. He needed some chaos that he could control today.

He cocked his ear towards their desks. They were frantically whispering about something that was definitely not related to work. Jones appeared to be scolding Beale about something as well as soothing him at the same time. Beale just sounded terrified and kept glancing at him as if he was a fox ad Beale was a mouse.

Nope, definitely didn't need to stir that pot at the moment. He'd bring it up at a more opportune time. Hopefully with Blye and Deeks present for optimal nonsensical babbling.

Hey, he had to get his little pleasures somewhere.

"Eric, a tyre is _not _something you can add your 'flash-bangs' to!"

"I didn't mean while they were still _on _a car!"

That was his cue to leave. Why did it feel like he was managing a kindergarten?

"I'm pretty sure that reclassifies it as a _weapon_."

"That's the whole point, Nell."

Make that a day-care. At least kindergartners could be trusted to use scissors appropriately, _most _of the time.

He swiftly moved past them, footsteps not making a sound as they bickered over tyres and explosives of all things. He'd have to check their search history later to make sure they weren't trying to take over the world or something.

Peering cautiously around the open corridor, Owen heaved a sigh of relief. Blye and Deeks had left, hopefully to their own desks.

"Everything okay, Owen?"

Owen would never admit it, but he had jumped at the sudden sound of Henrietta's voice. See what this office had done to him?

He glared at the diminutive woman. As usual, she remained unfazed.

"Hmpf," he responded.

"Our team?" she questioned knowingly.

"_Your _team," he growled.

She just hummed in agreement, making her way down the stairs. He followed, grumbling.

"Do you know even half of what they get up to?" he demanded as he slumped in the chair in front of her desk.

"Oh, I know everything they get up to," she said, rummaging in that blessed top drawer of hers.

He didn't doubt it and gave her a hopeful look.

Finally, she brandished an aged bottle.

"Need some liquid courage, Owen?" she teased.

"Yes," he said unashamedly, just about restraining himself from grabbing the whole bottle.

"You don't even have the whole story," she mock-scolded.

"At least conference calls are good for something," he said blandly, sipping his measure. "Did I hear something about a tyre?"

Henrietta settled herself into her chair more comfortably with a fond smile, "It started this morning when Mr Callen asked me for a for a free morning for 'sharpening skills'…"


	4. WBP: The Talk

**AN: Requested by /u/LostForeverInHisEyes **

**Set at the end of "When Boys Play", after their punishment.**

"I'll say it again, Hetty. We didn't mean it to go that far."

"That is what you _always _say, Mr Callen."

"What can I say, we get caught up in the moment," Mr Callen explained offhandedly with a shrug.

"Hmm."

Mentor and protégé stared at each other over cups of tea; one actually drinking it and the other sniffing their cup suspiciously. One was sitting upright with perfect posture and the other was slouching dangerously low. Didn't he know how bad for his back that was?

"It's chrysanthemum tea, Mr Callen. Very relaxing," Hetty informed him.

"Nothing stronger?" he asked hopefully.

Hetty peered at him over her glasses, "You don't deserve to be rewarded today."

Her boy didn't even try and conceal his pout. It was quite pathetic looking.

"We were dragged in by LAPD and had to clean all those weapons," he complained.

"All that could have been avoided," Hetty scolded mildly, taking a sip of her tea. "Ah that's good. Drink up, Mr Callen. It will do you good."

"It might poison me," he muttered, suspiciously poking the tip of his pinkie finger in it.

"Stop being dramatic."

"Apparently that's my thing for today," Mr Callen cheekily replied, pushing the cup away from him.

Honestly, did the boy not appreciate it? She didn't share her tea with just anyone.

"Yes, about that," Hetty said, straightening her glasses.

"I'm good to go back to the tea," he said hastily.

"Oh no, you are not getting out of this discussion so easily," she informed him.

His face fell. It was almost comical the speed it happened.

"I've already been punished," he complained.

"I never said anything about more punishment," Hetty said blandly before raising an eyebrow. "Unless you have done something, I am not aware of?"

"Unlikely," Mr Callen muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Mr Callen?"

"I haven't," he said quickly. "Honest" he added when she gave him a disbelieving look.

Oh, she was completely aware that he hadn't done anything else but Hetty had found that with Mr Callen, the more chances you gave him to talk the more likely he actually would. Of course, certain parameters had to be met to get him in that state of mind in the first place and it had only happened a few times but he always gave something away. She had always been already aware of it but it was good for the boy to open up.

"I wanted to know if you had learned anything today?" she asked him, honestly curious of his answer.

"Don't let Deeks poke around in unmarked drawers," he said automatically.

Hetty couldn't conceal her chuckle which made Mr Callen smile.

"We had already learnt that lesson," she reminded him. "Shortly after he started."

"I don't think Eric has forgiven him for managing to power down Ops," Mr Callen said thoughtfully, thinking over the memory.

"I don't think Mr Beale has," confirmed Hetty. "Though why Mr Deeks was left alone long enough to empty that particular drawer has yet to be explained."

"Kensi had to talk with Nate and Sam had already threatened him twice that morning," Mr Callen admitted. "I thought it was a good thing when he wasn't bugging him anymore."

"Hmm, and you didn't give any thought to what he was doing?"

He shook his head.

"Rather like today."

"Hetty- "

"Oh no, Mr Callen, there is nothing you can say that will make me believe that you had actually thought this ill-conceived plan through."

"We did!"

"Really?"

Mr Callen scrunched up his nose as he thought of the best way to answer that. Did he really want to dig himself into a deeper hole?

He just stayed silent, lapsing into tried and true habits. She had to give him props for that. Not many people refused to answer her.

"You didn't answer my question," Hetty reminded him. "Did you learn anything today? That does _not _involve your teammates." She added when his smirk appeared again.

He shrugged carelessly, deliberately misinterpreting it, "LAPD Officers need anger management training and possibly mandatory yoga sessions."

Hetty struggled to hide a smile she barely managed it. She settled her face back into a stern look.

"You know that is not what I meant."

Mr Callen just looked at her blankly, trying to get her to believe that he didn't understand what she meant. Her eyes narrowed, he knew exactly what she wanted. She bit back a sigh, why was it so hard to get him to admit his feelings? Yes, it made him want to bolt but it wasn't healthy to not think of them of to bottle them up.

He should know that if he wasn't going to respond to Mr Getz that it would have to be her. She suspected he preferred this arrangement. Normally.

He shifted in his seat and refused to look at her. Maybe it was too soon to be prying. It appeared that he hadn't fully realised what she had anyway.

"Did you have fun?" she asked, deciding to let him off the hook.

As they had told her, they hadn't done any _real _harm and those officers really had no business reacting like that. It had mainly been for a bit of harmless fun. Hetty had made a few pointed comments to their superior when she had contacted the LAPD before picking them up. She so hoped that they would make use of them.

She'd get back to him on his feelings later. A more appropriate time would come, she was sure of it.

"We did," Callen replied with an honest smile lighting his face before he realised what he had said. "I mean, no. We were um, focused and determined and- "

He petered off at her amused look. Now he just looked confused, Hetty resisted the urge to give him a triumphant look. It was always nice to get him a bit off-kilter. Good for him too, the boy was far too stoic.

"Drink up, Mr Callen. It looks like you could use a clearer mindset."


	5. FaTP: The Thoughts

**AN: This was inspired by /u/LostForeverInHisEyes because they adore Callen and I couldn't decide when I wanted **

**Set after "Facing Their Partners" and Chapter 2 of this.**

"What, no tea this time?" Callen asked with a sheepish grin as slipped into his usual seat in front of Hetty's desk.

"Tea is for discussions," she replied with a stern look.

It didn't cow him, it never did.

"This isn't a discussion?" he asked innocently.

"Most certainly not," she said indignantly.

Wearing one of his cocky grins, Callen leaned on his elbows on her desk. She frowned at him, he took no notice.

"You're being dramatic," he informed her, not seeming to realise that he was risking his life.

"Oh, _really_, Mr Callen?" Hetty commented, taking a pointed sip of her cup of tea. It was that chrysanthemum one again, he could smell the mould. "And what, pray tell, am I being dramatic about?"

He shifted slightly in his seat before replying, "The whole video thing."

"Ah yes," she said, setting her cup down to stare at him straight on. Hetty fixed her glasses, "The 'video thing' as you call it."

"Eric wiped it from their servers," Callen protested.

"Not before it hit ten thousand three hundred and fifty-seven views," Hetty said sternly.

"That's nothing for the internet," Callen shrugged it off.

"It's ten thousand three hundred and fifty-seven views too many," she scolded.

"Everyone always had their phones out nowadays," defended Callen. "Like Sam said, the guy didn't even catch our faces. Very poor videography."

Hetty eyed him contemplatively for a few seconds before stating, "I am aware of the urge and draw of social media conventions, Mr Callen. And I am pleased that none of you were identifiable- "

"Aren't our faces kept out of facial recognition databases anyway?" Callen interrupted.

Silencing him with a pointed look Hetty continued, "None of you were identifiable but that still doesn't mean that you should have been in that situation in the first place."

"What did you think we were going to do when I said we were combining lunch with some light-hearted training?"

"Backstopping some of your aliases, Mr Callen," retorted Hetty. "I believe I informed you that a few of each of your aliases needed backstopping."

"But that's boring," he almost whined.

"So, you aggravated Officer McHughes for some excitement?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, sort of," he said sheepishly.

"Ah, yes. And to get some proverbial 'payback' on how he has treated our Detective Deeks."

"Exactly! Wait, no. I mean yes but how did-?"

Callen gaped at the diminutive woman who was now back to sipping her tea.

"Honestly, Mr Callen. You are far better trained than this. Did you really not think I would not see through your thinly veiled excuse?"

"I thought you would believe me for at least a few hours," he grumbled.

"Hmm."

"Ok, at last until we got to their location," he corrected himself. "They had it coming."

A smile broke out across her face. That stopped Callen in his thoughts of what was going to be his next defence. Oh no.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing."

"That look means that something has gone our way or I've learnt a lesson about something you think is important," he said suspiciously.

"Exactly, Mr Callen."

Callen sighed heavily and folded his arms, "Ok, I'll bite. What is it this time?"

Hetty carefully set her cup down before replying, "It is good to see you hold tightly onto the bonds you have formed."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"I think you know, Mr Callen."

Callen frowned at the most important person in his life. He really didn't like it when she said things like this. It made him analyse his feelings far too much, however unwilling he may be to do it.

To be fair, any analysis of his feelings for the people he cared deeply for was far too much in his opinion. Like, yes, he was extremely fond of them. Yes, he considered them his family. Of course, he would defend them with all he could. Did he really need to go further than that? Apparently Hetty thought so.

"Well, of course I want to defend Deeks. Like you said, he's ours," Callen said defensively, he didn't like being questioned on his feelings.

"I'm just thinking of a time, not so long ago, that you would not even think of taking any action. Saying they could defend themselves perfectly fine."

"Never said he couldn't," he replied shortly.

"But you believed it required your intervention."

"It wasn't completely my idea," Callen pointed out, again. "Sam and Eric, heck, even Deeks wanted to do something to him."

"One word from you and they would have stopped."

Callen shrugged, "Didn't want to spoil their fun. Good way to blow off steam"

"More like you wanted to join in."

He just gave her a look along with that charming grin of his that he knew always worked on her, "Of course I did."

Hetty hummed in pleasure as she looked at him thoughtfully.

"You do know Eric wanted to mess with his records a bit and Sam's original idea involved what basically amounts t a form a mild psychological torture, right?" Callen decided to tattle.

"Oh, have some tea, Mr Callen," she said exasperatedly, pushing the cup towards him.

It smelled particularly pungent this time. He gave it a suspicious look.

"You haven't added laxative or something to it, have you?" he queried.

"Don't be so uncouth, Mr Callen. I would never demean myself to such actions," she scolded. "Do you really think I would do such a thing?"

"Nah," he replied picking up the cup and swirling the liquid around. "Far too obvious, you'd go for something more slow acting and possibly untraceable."

Hetty neither confirmed or denied that statement as she poured herself a second cup. There was a small smile on her face. Callen eyed the contents of his own cup again, was that grains floating on top?

"You shouldn't be so suspicious, it isn't healthy," Hetty informed him, taking a deep breath f her new cup.

"That's what I'm trained to be," Callen stated with a smirk, throwing her earlier words back at her."

"Touché."


	6. AMoT: The Nickname

**AN: Set around Chapter 8 of "A Matter of Trust", inspired by /u/LostForeverInHisEyes.**

"You are so a squirrel, Nate," Kensi teased.

"Definitely," Deeks agreed, smirking along with his partner.

Nate frowned at them and complained, "Come on guys, I don't need a nickname."

"Of course, you need a nickname," Deeks informed him. "All instructors have to have one, like Sparkling Wilderness over there."

"I'm not an instructor," he complained weakly. "I'm here to observe…"

His team snorted at that.

"And I am not a squirrel," he said forcibly, if they were going to assign him a nickname the least, they could do was make it a cool one.

Kensi and Deeks shrugged in unison, were they aware of how creepy that was?

"Blame Callen," Kensi stated.

Nate turned to try to glare at the man in question, only to falter when Callen gave him that look. You know, the look that specifically said 'You _really_ don't want to do this' look. Surprisingly few criminals paid heed to that look but not Nate. He was not that stupid. Most of the time.

"You are like a squirrel," he decided to explain. "You're always hopping around suspiciously, looking for your hidden nuts."

Nate heard Eric and Nell snort and try to smother their laughter behind them. Nate ignored them, a blush creeping up his face.

"And your always on the go and curious about everything," Callen added.

That part didn't sound too bad…

"Getting deep there, G," teased Sam, nudging his partner.

"I think it's fantastic," Nadine broke in, making everyone stare at her. They had forgotten she was there. "Very well thought out and explained," she praised.

"See, Nate?" taunted Kensi.

Nate just sighed heavily.

"He just needs his to match Nadine's," Nell said thoughtfully.

"I'm good," Nate said quickly, for once not wanting them to continue their bantering.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sam mock scolded him. "You can't go 'round with half a symbolised name thing, can he Nadine?" he directed the last part at the woman in question.

She shook her head.

"Definitely not," Nadine proclaimed. "A complete one latches onto your _soul_," she added emphatically.

Even Nate had to squint at her in confusion at that one. Where did she get this stuff? Poorly translated Chinese philosopher texts?

"It needs to be an adjective," Eric suggested.

Nate pouted at him, he didn't have to egg them on! He was ignored. He had to get a better fierce look. He didn't think he could pull off Sam or Callen's and definitely not Kensi's. He shuddered. Maybe they could give him some training…

"Something nice and descriptive," Nell added, red lips twisted into a smirk.

"And stays true to you," Callen finished piously.

They all looked at him critically. It was very unnerving. Must not squirm. Must _not _squirm.

"How about Stretched Squirrel?" suggested Deeks, not looking to convinced.

References to his height? Really? Kensi looked like she agreed if her scrunched up nose was to suggest anything.

"Really?"

"He is tall…"

"Not weird enough," Sam vetoed. "He has to match 'Sparkling Wilderness', remember?"

"I don't think you can come close to that weirdness…" Callen replied thoughtfully.

With dawning horror, Nate realised that they were actually committed to this. Why couldn't they work together like this when _he _wanted them to?

"Psycho Squirrel?"

"What is he, a serial killer?"

"I was going for mind killer."

"No."

"Squirrel I-can't-butt-out-of-our-business?"

"Really?"

"You're bade at this, Fern."

"Stop calling me Fern!"

"At least I give good nicknames!"

"Good? Seriously, De- "

"What about, 'The Squirrel-i-NATE-er," posed Eric with a mischievous grin.

They all groaned at the horrible pun.

"No," vetoed Sam bluntly.

"You need to suggest something Sam before you can veto," Deeks complained.

"You're awful quiet, Nate," Calen commented, ignoring the suggestions. "You normally can't shut up."

"Yeah, you're always chattering away," Kensi added with a frown.

Nate gave them a look and was about to give them all a very ticked off lecture when-

"Hey! That's it!" Deeks cheered. "Nice one, you two?"

"Huh?" the two agents asked, confused.

"_Chattering_," said Deeks.

More blank looks.

"He's a _Chattering _Squirrel," he elaborated.

Four beats, it only took FOUR beats before they all burst out into laughter. His pout got deeper. They were _definitely _better trained than this. Maybe he should add this to his report. Hell, the LAPD were even getting suspicious at their antics!

"Ok, ok. I _get _it, guys," Nate said sulkily. "No more conspiring with Hetty."

"Too late, Chattering Squirrel," Deeks said cheerfully, bouncing back into the centre of the room.

Sam slapped him fondly on the back, "Nice try."

"As if you could stop her from reeling you in," Callen scoffed.

Nate rested his clipboard on his forehead.

"I'm going to pay for this, aren't I?" he queried with closed eyes.

"Oh yeah," Kensi said semi-threateningly.


	7. AMoT: The Lines

**AN: Occurs just after Chapter13 of "A Matter of Trust". I am marking this as complete because I can't think of any more outtakes for this series but if anyone reads the 'When Boys Play' series and you want to read something I haven't included please PM me or leave a review!**

Bates rubbed his forehead as he followed his people back into the precinct. He could feel a headache coming on.

"Conference room," he grunted at them.

They have each other apprehensive looks but thankfully did as they were told. None of them looked even a little bit repentant.

"Want to tell me what that was all about?" He asked them once they had settled down.

All he got was some muttering and shrugs of shoulders along with stubborn looks.

"You couldn't really have thought that that would have worked!" McHughes explained.

Bates resisted the urge to facepalm. He was the whole reason today happened! He didn't think the detective had a right to complain and judging from all the looks that were being directed at the man, neither did anyone else.

"I think what McHughes is trying to say is that it is well know that there is a lot of bad feeling between most of us and the NCIS crowd," Grant explained.

Bates gave her a relieved look. Finally, some common sense! Now where was that earlier?

"Last time I checked you were all fully functioning _intelligent_ adults," he scolded exasperatedly. "You've dealt with far worse attitudes from criminals for heaven's sake."

"But it's _Deeks_," said Jorsten as if that explained everything.

Apparently, it did if everyone's nodding heads were anything to go by. Bates looked at them in dismay. He didn't realise that their attitudes towards Deeks were this bad. What the hell? He didn't even know what to say to them so he just gaped.

"Oh, like this is such a big surprise," Whiting said impatiently, tapping her foot.

Bates gave her a look and he got an eye roll in return. He decided not to say anything to her. He hadn't wanted her to go along on this, ahem, experience but Hetty had specifically requested her. Both women terrified him but Hetty more so, so Whiting went.

"He is one of our best Detectives," Bayes said to the room instead.

If anything, that made the room more hostile. He heard an awful lot of disbelieving scoffing noises.

"As if, " McHughes snorted.

"He still has the highest successful closed case rate despite him working ninety percent of the time with NCIS," McBride pointed out with a slight frown.

McHughes shrugged his shoulders.

"But it's _Deeks_," he said.

No one else seemed to see the problem with this explanation. Bates sighed heavily. He wasn't getting anywhere with this lot. He waved them away.

"Get back to work," he ordered, now feeling depressed. "And for God's sake do whatever the midget fairy wants you to do first."

He did_ not_ need to be on Hetty's bad side. He rather liked being alive.

"Taking orders from NCIS, now?" Grant teased as she passed him

"Hetty Lange," Bates corrected. "Everyone takes orders from Hetty."

At least Whiting was nodding along with that.

He followed them back to their desks, curious what Hetty had done. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect. There was a small pile of what looked like lined paper on each of their desks. It didn't take long for him to find out.

Almost as one there was a lot of swearing.

"What the hell?"

"She can't be serious."

"I am not doing this!"

Bates exchanged a confused look with Whiting (she wasn't sat with these plebs) as everyone muttered angrily and they shuffled through the papers. What on earth?

"You can't expect us to do this, sir!" Grant said indignantly, marching across the office and brandishing her sheaf of papers like a weapon.

Bates took them off her before she started hitting people with them, there were a lot of them and he didn't want to write up an incident report involving a multitude of aggressively inflicted paper cuts.

There was an awful lot of lined paper but with nothing on it. He frowned in confusion until he saw what was on the top of the page then he laughed. Grant frowned at him. Whiting peered over his shoulder and dint bother to smother her chuckles.

"It isn't funny!" Grant whined.

"Oh, it is," Bates told her with a grin. "It looks like Hetty agrees with me on you guys' mental ages."

He glanced at the top page of her stack. It had the sentence, 'I must learn to form my own opinions' in impressively styled handwriting across the top with each line below numbered. Lines! She had given his people lines. Bates pushed down another bubble of laughter as he shuffled through to the last page, one hundred to be exact. Brilliant.

"Let me see yours, McHughes," he requested, handing back Grant's papers and receiving a scowl from both people.

'I will play better with others' was on his. Bates snorted. Hetty pegged him down perfectly. There were five hundred lines assigned to him. Ouch.

"I have 'I must be more respectful of all my colleagues'," Jorsten offered with a scowl.

"How many?" McBride asked curiously, clutching his visibly smaller stack of papers.

"Two hundred and fifty," Jorsten replied. "You?"

"Fifty," McBride replied smugly.

That got him a lot of outraged shouts.

"Better get cracking, then," he instructed with a grin. "You've only got two days."

Jorsten glared at him.

"You can't expect us to actually do this," McHughes complained.

Bates just raised his eyebrow and folded his arms.

"Why don't you go ask Hetty that?"

The man paled rapidly and wisely slunk back to his desk, head down in defeat. Oh look, he can be trained.

With that, Bates made sure that they started their punishment before leaving with a grin. Whiting stayed behind, probably to mock. Shaking his head in disbelief at Hetty arrogance, Bates return to his office. Once he safely shut his door and sat in his own chair for the first time today, he gave into his emotions. He laughed and laughed and laughed. Tears were pouring down his face and he was sure his face wasn't a pretty sight. He wasn't sure if it was because of stress or because of how funny the whole situation was but he didn't stop for a good ten minutes.

Then he glanced down at his own desk. There was a familiar looking stack of paper.

'I must know my subordinates' attitudes' was on the top.

A real smile broke out across his face.

"Well played, Hetty. Well played," he muttered under his breath.

He reached for his pen.


	8. FaTP: The Pizza

**AN: Inspired by /u/LostForeverInHisEyes who wanted Callen to get his pizza. Set directly after Chapter 6 of 'Facing Their Partners' **

The two federal agents rolled apart from each other breathlessly.

"You need an actual bed," Anna complained, awkwardly shuffling herself so she was resting against him.

"What's wrong with my mattress?"

"The fact that it is_ only_ a mattress."

"It's a _good _mattress, " Callen pointed out with a pout.

It was! Just because he felt more comfortable sleeping close to the ground and didn't feel the need to have what he considered to be unnecessary 'stuff' didn't mean he went for the poor-quality stuff. This mattress was perfectly firm and sponge. Perfect for when you were injured. Which he tended to be. A lot. That ad Hetty made sure he got an 'appropriate' one.

"It looks like you're camping," she said, poking him in the chest.

"More like 'glamping', what type of camper brings a mattress with them?" He answered. She gave him a look. "You don't like camping?"

"No."

Callen looked at her red cheeks and smirked, "You'd probably end up falling off it," referring to her propensity to be, ahem, quite active in particular bed/mattress activities.

She tried to look indignant as she shoved him lightly. The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact she was feeling very pleased with herself.

"You'd catch me," she said confidently, snuggling into him.

He rather liked her doing that.

"Do you really not like the mattress?" He asked curiously, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

There was a pause before she shrugged.

"I do not mind it here," she replied, tilting her head to look at him with a smile.

Callen was confused. "Why here?"

"It is very you," she explained.

He smiled slyly at her, "What I'm hearing is that only I could get away with using a mattress in a relationship with you."

She quirked her eyebrow at him but rolled her eyes. He knew what she was thinking. He rarely used the term 'relationship' out loud to describe what they were doing. Hell, Callen didn't even know what they _were_ doing half of the time. It was mainly his fault, he knew, but Anna didn't seem to mind.

The rumbling of two stomachs interrupted their moment.

"Did you say something about pizza, earlier?" Anna asked, starting to pull herself up into a sitting position.

Callen did the same, pulling down his rumpled t-shirt.

"It will be cold by now," he said. "And it wouldn't fill us anyway. It was _supposed_ to be for one."

"Let's order another one then," Anna decided, standing up to fetch her phone on his counter.

"Will an extra-large fill us?" He teased.

That got him another eye roll.

"We didn't use _that_ much energy," she pointed out with a smirk. "At least, _I_ didn't. "

He gave her an eye roll of his own and wrapped his arms around her from behind. They had only been making out like a pair of _very_ randy teenagers. Thank god for his mattress or his stumble would have been embarrassing.

She hadn't rebuttoned her blouse he noticed as the ringing tone of a local pizza place came from the phone.

"I was thinking about stocking up on calories for later," he whispered into her ear.

She shivered into him and her tried to not smile too broadly in triumph. Thankfully, she couldn't see his face.

"Yes, hello?" Anna asked into the phone, now flustered. "Yes, can I order, uh, _stop it_" she directed the last part of her attempt of a sentence at Callen in a hiss as he was now trailing kisses down her neck.

Oh, it was _fun_ to get her all hot and bothered. Now Callen understood why Deeks did it to Kensi.

"Yes, I'm still here," Anna said into the phone, shooting Callen a glare and pointedly hunching her shoulders.

Knowing when not to push it, Callen decided to get out a few beers and his bottle of soda as she rhymed off their order of two large meat lovers' pizzas to the poor operator on the phone. Meh, he had probably heard worse.

"Done," she announced, setting her phone down. "I got us some wings as well."

"Here, I'll split with you," said Callen, rummaging in his pockets for change only to have her wave him away.

"My treat. You weren't expecting me and the earlier activities were forty percent my fault."

"Only forty?"

"You started it."

Callen thought for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. True. Couldn't deny that. He thought it would be diplomatic not to mention that she hadn't exactly put in only forty percent of the effort. See, he could learn! He leaned in for another kiss.

"Ah, ah, ah," said Anna, stopping him as her stomach rumbled again. "_After_ food."

He pouted. She just smirked at him.

Oh well. At least he was getting his pizza. And there was always later.


	9. AMoT: The Liaison

**AN: For /u/altarp2408 who wanted to see Whiting and Bates' reactions to this whole mess. Set after Chapter 13 of 'A Matter of Trust'. **

Bates rubbed his hand over his face once he was out of sight, utterly exhausted by the day. He did think that his people were good people. They worked hard, got results and didn't piss other people off too much. Heck, they even got on well with the FBI when the occasion called for it. For some reason when it came to Deeks all of that went out the window.

He cursed Henrietta Lange, in his head of course. He wasn't _that_ stupid. If it wasn't for that stupid exercise, she had made his people and hers do together he'd still be oblivious to his people's attitudes. He frowned then sighed heavily again. OK, that was unfair and also untrue. Bates had been aware of what everyone thought of Deeks, you'd have to be deaf not to hear the whispered comments that flew around when he was actually in the precinct. It was just that, he'd thought it had been simple jealousy of the kid's success rate and the fact that he was working with the feds. No police officer viewed that as a good thing.

And when had Deeks become one of Hetty's anyway? The small woman had made that fact abundantly clear. To be honest, she was free to him. That sounded bad. Bates liked Deeks. Really liked him. He was a fantastic guy and excellent cop for both normal duties and uncover ops. One of the best and Bates didn't say that lightly. But he was absolutely wasted here, he knew that. The kid was too good and he needed a more reliable and consistent team (even ignoring the hostile environment). They couldn't give him that here. Also, he'd never seen Deeks happier than he had been since starting with NCIS and Bates couldn't begrudge him that. Though, he'd never say any of that out loud. He was no sap.

There was the sounds of disgruntled mutters and angrily shuffled papers coming from desks. Bates frowned. He was really annoyed at himself for not realising just how toxic it had become towards Deeks. Were they really all morons or did they not just get the man?

"He's too out there," came a woman's voice from in front of him.

He jumped and clutched at his chest when he realised who it was.

"Whiting! Give a guy some warning," he hissed.

"I coughed," she said blandly, entering his office without waiting for permission.

"Do you want something?" Bates asked, pointedly shuffling some papers.

"You were thinking about Deeks, weren't you?" She asked, standing in front of his desk.

"Yes," he said cautiously, could _all_ the women he knew read minds?

"And how today went?" Whiting pressed.

He winced in remembrance of that disaster.

Whiting smirked at him. "It was because of Deeks, wasn't it?" She demanded.

"Technically it was due to the incident with the tyre..." Bayes responded weakly.

Whiting just gave him a look.

"Yeah," he replied reluctantly.

She gave him a triumphant loo.

"I didn't reliable they were that bad," he said heavily.

Whiting just shrugged.

"Deeks is a bit of an oddball," she explained. "Works great by himself, maybe a little too well, and as a team."

"Then what's the problem?" Bates interrupted.

She glared at him until he was significantly cowed and continued, "But he holds back, doesn't trust very well and is just all over the place when it comes to his methods. They can sense that even if they could say what bothered them about him."

"But he's had tried and proven results. His methods work and make sense. He always explains himself and doesn't let anyone go in blind," Bates complained. "He's hauled some of their asses out of situations they couldn't get out of safely at risk to himself!"

"I'm just telling you what they all think not why they think that. I don't speak moron."

Hm, he'd never actually think that Whiting would be on Deeks' side. What with the IA investigation and all that.

"They're idiots," he cried, giving into the urge to thump his fists on his desk.

Those damned lines of Hetty's fluttered to the ground. He gathered them up before something happened to them.

"Something we both actually agree on."

Bates looked at her suspiciously.

"You don't like him."

"He _annoys_ me," she said in a tone that implied that that was different. "I don't question his honest abilities."

Hmm, there was something there that he wasn't quite getting. Whiting stared straight at him, nothing was going to come from this end and probably not at Deeks' end either.

"Don't you have any lines to do?" He asked irritable, not wanting to prolong this conversation anymore.

That got him a humorous look.

"Didn't have any," she said smugly, swanning out of the room looking far too pleased with herself.


	10. TL: The Recognition

**AN: This is for the anonymous reviewer who signs themselves off as "Mel". They wanted Vance to attend the award ceremony in "The Liaison" but I couldn't make that happen so I hope this works instead. Set between Chapters 8 and 9 of "The Liaison".**

Vance rubbed his hand over his face. Hetty gave him a curious look from the screen in Ops. He was looking tired.

"Thanks for the update, Hetty," he said, preparing to sign off.

"Not a problem, Leon. I'm just glad to report that things are actually going well for a change in recent months.

The director chuckled.

"True, it's always good when no agents die, are in hospital or are running for their lives."

"Exactly."

Suddenly Vance sat up straight and gave her a curious look, "Speaking of good updates, I heard that our Detective Deeks is being recognised."

Hetty gave him a look.

"I haven't sent you that email yet," she replied.

Vance looked smugly at her, "You aren't the only one who communicates with LAPD, Hetty."

"Obviously you have too much free time on your hands, Director, if you can have cosy chats with a mere LAPD Lieutenant."

Vance didn't respond.

"Lieutenant Bates Blind Carbon Copied you in on that email he sent me, didn't he?" She said with an eyebrow raised.

That got her a chuckle from him.

"You always amaze me," he commented and reached towards the screen to end the video call. "Give Detective Deeks my congratulations."

Hetty cocked her head to one side and heard her team stomp their way up the stairs. Honestly, did grace mean nothing to them? Mr Beale and Miss Jones must have been notified of another case.

"You can tell him yourself, Leo, " she informed him.

A flash of confusion crossed his face until the doors open and her team crowded in, chattering loudly.

"I'm just saying that I just need a *little* flash bang," Mr Deeks said pleadingly.

Mr Hanna made a noose of exasperation.

"Weren't you the one to say 'no more bangs' to Eric after the last time," Mr Callen asked, amused.

"I told you my skills would be needed again," Mr Beale informed anyone who cared to listen.

Miss Jones rolled her eyes and said bluntly, "You are not going to risk a vandalism charge directly in front of the LAD precinct!"

"I was thinking more behind it," Mr Deeks said.

"No," Miss Blye said firmly. "You are not going to pretend there's an IED just to avoid the award ceremony."

"But-"

"We don't encourage our staff to perform possible acts of terrorism," Leon finally spoke up, pity - it was getting amusing.

"Director," they all chorused, most giving him a matching deer-in-the-headlights look.

Mr Deeks gulped noisily.

"Director Vance, uh, we were just discussing the, the response times of LAPD to a credible threat," he babbled.

Miss Blye slapped her palm against her forehead and Mr Hanna's shoulders were shaking in mirth.

Leon gave him a blank look, Hetty knew he was just as amused as she was.

"Hmm," he rumbled before looking at Mr Beale. "No explosives, minor or otherwise Eric."

Mr Beale nodded vigorously until Miss Jones elbowed him sharply. Hetty inwardly winced, that had to hurt.

"Yes sir, of course not," he gasped out.

Moss Jones tugged him back to stop him babbling more, thankfully.

Leon then turned to Mr Deeks, who tugged at the neck of his shirt. Miss Blue gave him an anxious look.

"Detective Deeks," Leon paused and Mr Deeks straightened up and braced himself. "I want to congratulate you on your award."

"I'm s-what?" He stuttered in disbelief, not taking in what he heard.

The team heard it loud and clear and broke out into grins.

Leon ignored the stuttering and continued, "It's quite impressive."

"Uh, thank you, sir," Mr Deeks interjected cautiously.

Leon nodded and instructed, "Keep it up and Hetty?"

She stepped forward, "Yes, Leon?"

"Thanks again."

She waved in goodbye as he switched off the call this time.

Mr Deeks released a noisy breath and asked wide-eyed, "What just happened?"


	11. O: The Glitter

**AN: For /u/LostForeverInHisEyes who wanted to see something happen with the glitter. Set a few days after the conclusion of "Ours"**

"What on earth is that?" came Sam's voice from behind him.

Hm, must have finished working out, had it been that long already?

"A better question is, do we really want to know?" Callen added his own two cents with a grin, flopping down into his chair.

"Is that one of Eric's confetti cannons?" Kensi asked, peering over his shoulder.

Deeks covered the item with his hands and pulled a face.

"Well, if you're really curious…"

"We're not," Sam said bluntly, sitting next to him.

Deeks gave the older man a grin.

"You don't fool me, Sammy-boy, you're curious about the confetti cannon," he said in a teasing tone.

"So, it _is _the confetti cannon," Kensi crowed.

Sam gave him an irritated look.

"One, don't ever call me 'Sammy-boy' again unless you want me to remove your head from your body," Deeks nodded vigorously at that pronouncement and made a cross over his heart, Sam rolled his eyes before continuing, "And I wanted to know what it is. Now that I do, I no longer care."

Deeks pouted at that, the man was no fun.

"I'll bite," said Callen, kicking his feet back. "Why are you messing with one of those confetti cannons. Didn't you bin them all after the other night?"

Deeks shrugged and spun the contraption between his hands.

"We did, I found it on the floor over there," he waved at the computers at the side of the room. "Wanted to see how the Meerkats tricked it out."

"They tricked it out?" asked Callen

Both Kensi and Deeks gave him a 'duh' look.

"Right."

"They're not meant to produce so much confetti," Deeks informed them, trying to prise at the seams.

Meanwhile: In Ops

"Eric, what are you _doing_?"

Eric poked his head up, very meerkat-like, from where he was crawling about under the desk. He was looking incredibly guilty.

"Uhm…"

Nell crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow; it was better to let him babble out the truth rather than question him too much. She got the whole story that way.

He bit his lip and heaved himself up. His knees were dusty.

"I may have been looking for our prototype confetti cannon," he said, scratching the back of his head nervously.

Nell gaped at him.

"You mean the one we were experimenting with?" she hissed, looking all around them – she did _not _want anyone to hear this.

"Yes?" Eric replied with a wince.

Deeks was convinced he could get this to open, he could see the seams straining. It. Just. Wouldn't. Budge.

"Oops."

He had used too much force and it shot out of his hand to clatter into the middle of their desks. He winced at the sound. The was _loud_.

"Are you quite finished playing with your toy, Mr Deeks?" queried Hetty, not looking very impressed. "I do hope your reports are done."

Deeks looked guiltily at his desk where the definitively _unfinished _reports were.

"Hmm mmm," was all Hetty said and trotted over to the confetti cannon to pick it up.

She eyed it curiously.

"It's Eric's," Kensi told her helpfully.

"I'm aware, Miss Blye," Hetty replied, running her fingers along the seams. "Nevertheless, I am confiscating it."

Deeks barely withheld a snigger, she really did sound like a teacher at times.

As if she knew what he was thinking, she gave him a stern look.

"More work, less distractions if you please, Mr Deeks," she told him, absentmindedly fiddling with the opening.

Deeks pouted and turned reluctantly to his stack of papers. Everyone else always got all the fun. Now Hetty was going to get to open it and see the cool circuity Eric was bound to have added to it. Confetti cannons didn't make the 'Boom' noise his did.

With a sigh he pulled a report to him. Might as well get started. He was trying to word 'I had to swing a man into a dumpster to distract the men chasing me' in a way that would be more acceptable for the higher ups when he heard a popping noise.

"Oh my," came Hetty's voice from her desk

That made them all turn around. What the-?

Callen immediately started sniggering. Kensi had her hands over her mouth and Sam was gaping. Deeks didn't know what to do, it probably wasn't safe to laugh but his shoulders were shaking with the effort to stop it.

Head to toe, Hetty Lange was covered in none other than _glitter_. Pink to be exact, because of course it couldn't be a more neutral colour.

Eric and Nell chose that moment to run down the stairs.

"Guys, have any of you seen a cannon-oh?" said Ne, coming to a halt on the third step from the bottom.

Eric nearly crashed into her a gulped loudly when he saw their boss.

"Err," was all he could say.

If people were cartoons, Hetty would definitely have fumes coming from her.

"Mr Beale, I believe _you _ae responsible for this?" she asked in a controlled tone, clapping her hands together to make the glitter fall.

Eric looked incredibly cowed.

"Um, yes?"

The team watched amused as she crooked her finger for their Technical Operator to follow her to the burn room. He gave them all a pleading look. Nope, he was on his own.

"You too, Miss Jones," Hetty called making Nell dart after her boyfriend's trudging figure.

"Think if we believe, she'll fly?" Deeks whispered out of the corner of his mouth, once they were safe.

"Don't count on it, Mr Deeks," Hetty answered sternly.

"She doesn't need to," added Callen.


	12. O: The Momma Bear

**AN: Set after the day after the final chapter of 'Ours'. For /u/Bkworm4life4 who wanted to see more of Roberta because who doesn't love that woman?**

**Also, because apparently you lot aren't done with inspiring me, this little outtake has become a fully formed sort fic in my head so look out for hw Roberta gets her revenge in 'Served Cold' at some point in the near future. If you want to leave ideas for what you want hr to do with Jorsten and McHughes, please leave a review with suggestions.**

Deeks was going over his inventory lists, more than a little puzzled. This was meant to be a relatively simple task, just checking things off a list. A monkey could do it. A monkey could do it if the list was _comprehensible_, that is. Which this list was not.

One of these days he was going to persuade people to actually _use_ the computer for more than ordering stuff. This jotting stuff down on bits of paper was really not working for him. Ok, they weren't _really_ random bits of paper - it was the leather-bound book his mom had got for him specifically for making notes in while on shift. It was embossed with the name of the bar and everything. Of course, that had had to get done _after_ it was given to him due to their little problem with naming this place but still. It was a rather touching gift. And useful. When you could actually _read_ the notes.

The problem was that no one took time to actually write neatly when they were making notes while on shift. Deeks understood, he really did. Things good get pretty hectic (sort of anyway, it was early days for this place yet) and there was always another job to get doing, which left him this this. Hastily scrawled notes that he wasn't even convinced was in English.

He loved having his own bar, he really did. But having other responsibilities (very big responsibilities) outside of world could be more than a little stressful. At least he had a good team behind him. He looked up from his page to give his partner (and wife! That was never going to get old) and mother a fond look. When they actually wrote _neatly_ anyway. Deeks released an exasperated breath and turned the page upside down to see if that would help any. Was his mother a doctor in a past life? Her penmanship was really awful. What was that word even meant to be?

Deeks supposed he should be grateful that he wasn't the one who had to clean up the confetti. Apparently, Hetty had made Eric and Nell do that themselves. She'd even brought a handheld vacuum for that purpose.

"I'm going to take these out back," Kensi announced to the room at large, waving her arms over a stack of empty crates and boxes.

"Thanks," Deeks said absent-mindedly, bring the page closer to his face.

Was that a 'b' or an 'l'? Neither letter looked like it belonged in the word but considering that he didn't know what the word was supposed to be...

"So, are you going to tell me anything about those guys who were stirring up trouble last night?" His mom asked, in _the_ most fake nonchalant voice he'd ever heard, as she sidled up to him - glass and cloth in hand.

"No one was causing trouble last night," he said quickly, knowing exactly what she was talking about but _not_ wanting to get into it.

That got him an extremely sceptical look in response. He didn't elaborate on it, pointedly looking back down at his list. This was not something he wanted to talk about.

"That cop," his mom stated, waving her finger about at him (he ducked before he lost an eye). "That moody one who looked like someone pissed in his drink."

"Momma!" Deeks hissed, looking around to make sure no one heard that.

"Oh, relax, Martin," she replied with a dismissively gesture. "We're the only ones here."

"You still shouldn't be _saying_ things like that.

She ignored him, of course she did, and continued, "Mc-something. McGarvey? McHale? McBride?"

"McHughes," Deeks said in exasperation, not being able to take it anymore.

"So, what about him," she blatantly fished.

Deeks sighed and ran a hand over his face. "He's no one, momma."

"The team didn't seem to think so."

Deeks groaned at the memory because _of course_ everyone had to go and basically threaten the guy last night. Well, technically Eric and Nell did the actual threatening but there was no mistaking what Callen, Kensi and Sam's glares meant. They hadn't exactly been subtle.

"Just some guy who likes to give me a bit of trouble," he gave in slightly.

It was the truth. Partially. No need to go into details.

"In LAPD?" she demanded.

Deeks shrugged again. She already knew that.

"He's not a fan of mine. My charming personality doesn't work on him," he replied with a self-deprecating sigh.

"I _knew_ he was trouble," his mom swore.

"Momma, no," Deeks chided and then checked himself. "Well, yes but," he shook his head realising that he did _not_ need to give his mom ammunition here. "No, he's not trouble. He's a good cop."

That wasn't even begrudgingly given praise. McHughes _was_ a good cop. A little brash and blunt and had an awful personality but a good cop. Jorsten too. Just because they didn't like him didn't mean he was a bad cop. Loads of people didn't like him. Deeks liked to think himself of a marmite kind of guy. You either loved him or you hated him. Especially in the LAPD.

"He just doesn't like me." Deeks shrugged again, be had been doing that a lot. "It's not like he's hurt me or anything or put me in danger."

Though he wouldn't put it past the guy and he would _not_ be taking his chances with him.

"But it bothers you," she accurately guessed.

He didn't answer, which was probably all the answers she needed. So what? It didn't matter anymore. It wasn't like he worked with guy or even came in to close contact with him these days. Unless his team actively sought him out.

"Oh, Martin."

She completely gave up on the pretence of washing the glass and wrapped an arm around him. He stepped out of the embrace and shrugged.

"I'm fine, momma."

Okay, it wasn't exactly the most sincere or insisting tone but he was _fine_.

"His opinion doesn't matter anymore," he added quietly.

Deeks braced himself for his mother's sincere, elaborate but nevertheless useless advice but it never came. He shot a quick look at her, hoping she wasn't going to blow up or something (Momma Deeks was _fierce_ when she was riled up). But she wasn't. Instead, she looked thoughtful. Pensive even.

"Momma?" he tried.

She shook her head and smiled at him. A proper smile. The one that made him feel warm and want to grin broadly in response. Reaching over to him, she patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

"At least you're with good people now," she said with satisfaction, picking up the glass and moving back to the bar.

Huh. Deeks blinked after her, his lips curving into a smile.

Yes. He really was.


	13. AMoT: The Idea

**AN: Set before Chapter 13 of 'A Matter of Trust' and related to Chapter 7 of this fic. A request from /u/Bkworm4life4 who wanted Roberta to be the one to give Hetty the idea for lines**.

Hetty sipped at her glass and restrained herself from pulling a face. The offending bottle was pushed away from her.

"It's horrible, isn't it?" a blonde, short-haired woman stated conversationally from behind the bar.

"Indeed," Hetty agreed. "Though, I am not normally a beer drinker."

What a sight she made; Henrietta Lange drinking beer of all things! During the day no less. She was regretting showing her support in this manner. Her taste buds might never forgive her. That was just horrible stuff.

"Even the most alcohol-pickled liver wouldn't like that stuff," the woman replied knowingly, leaning against the bar.

"Hmm," Hetty responded noncommittedly.

She couldn't really empathise as her liver was certainly not pickled. Even with all the scotch she had imbibed over the years. Though, the liquid (she hesitated on even calling it alcohol) was certainly vile. She sniffed the glass delicately and scrunched up her nose. It didn't smell too good either.

"I _told_ Martin that that combination was going to be absolutely disgusting," Roberta Deeks continued, shaking her head.

"It is quite interesting," Hetty offered, smacking her lips together as she tried to think of what flavours were assaulting her taste buds.

None of them were particularly _good_ flavours. In fact, they were quite odd.

"Shockingly bad, you mean," Roberta retorted with an eye roll. "No point in pussy-footing with. Martin, Hetty. You'll get nowhere."

Hetty decided not to respond to that and reached for the bottle again and peered at the label. Nothing too elaborate, it was just a sample brew. Hopefully it wouldn't go beyond that stage. Actually, she would have to make sure that it didn't. It really was quite horrible.

"How did he even come across this?" Hetty felt the need to ask.

She did not know how the human mind could come up with something so atrocious. Did the inventor have no taste buds or something.

Roberta shrugged. "I really don't know anymore. My boy is a sucker for soulful stories and colourful labels. Some guy probably told him it reminded him of his dead dolphin or something."

Hetty snorted at that. It was probably true as well. Mr Deeks did have a flair for dramatics, after all.

She set the bottle back down and picked up her glass again. There was still an awful lot of liquid left in it. She swirled it around, like you would a wine. Even that didn't make it look more appetising.

"Seriously, Hetty, you shouldn't keep drinking it. It will probably give you something," Roberta told her with genuine concern in her voice.

Hetty snorted into her drink. Unfortunately, she had drunk and eaten far worse and she was alive and kicking. A vile beer was not going to get her down. She pushed her glass away from her. It didn't mean she had to keep drinking it however. This drink wasn't been forced down her throat. Thank God.

"Pity that I couldn't keep his poor beer choices in line like I used to do with his behaviour," Roberta mused.

"What did you use to keep a young Mr Deeks in line?" Hetty asked curiously, feeling that there was a story (ahem, blackmail) there.

Roberta smirked at her. "Don't know how to deal with him?"

Hetty just arched an eyebrow in return.

"Of course you do," Roberta muttered, deflating slightly. "He always speaks of you with such awe."

It was always rather nice to be appreciated. Even if it was with a reasonable dose of fear. Hetty chuckled at the thought of Deeks talking to his mother about her. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what he said. Probably all exaggerated stuff anyway. She pulled Roberta back on track.

"How did you discipline him?"

"I sat his butt down on a chair and made him do lines until they burned into his brain."

That was rather interesting. A tried and true method of teachers everywhere.

"Mr Deeks actually sat down for them?" Hetty asked curiously.

She couldn't really imagine a young Marty Deeks being able to do that.

"If I sat him down right by me at an empty table so he wouldn't get distracted."

Ah, that made more sense. Hetty had her doubts that he would do that sort of thing without supervision.

"And this worked?"

"Never repeated the same bit of mischief twice," she replied proudly. "Except, you know, the constant talking in class."

Hetty had to chuckle at that.

"I don't think anything would keep Mr Deeks from talking."

"I think an old girlfriend actually tried duct tape but I didn't ask questions."

Hetty arched an eyebrow at that.

"Anyway," Roberta said, getting back to her original point. "Yes. I used lines on him. Worked like a charm."

"Bored him into submission."

"Exactly!" Roberta said triumphantly. "It made him think a little."

"It seems to have worked," Hetty complimented.

The mother smiled at it and shrugged.

"He wasn't a bad kid, it was just -"

"Every child needs discipline in their lives," Hetty finished knowingly, thinking of a particular child of hers.

Roberta gave her a small smile.

"It's something I could do without his father-"

Hetty held her hand up, "Say no more."

She had seen the flash of pain in the blonde's eyes at the mention or her, quite frankly, sorry excuse for an ex-husband. A look that still sometimes appeared in another blond's eyes from time to time.

"Yes, well," Roberta blustered, wiping a bit to furiously at a non-existent spot on the bar. "It worked."

"Indeed." Hetty agreed, patting her arm. "He's a fine, upstanding, passionate, young man."

"Annoying and loud, you mean," Roberta croaked out but gratitude shone in her eyes.

A look of compassion and understanding passed through both woman's eyes as they stared at each other.

Then the patrons a few tables down left, pushing all their glasses into the middle of the table.

"I'll be right back," Roberta promised her.

"No rush," Hetty replied absentmindedly.

Her eyes followed Roberta as she cleared the vacated table. Hm.

Lines. Interesting.


	14. AIC: The Window

**AN: I realised that I forgot about Hetty's comment to Deeks to "not forget about the windows" in Chapter 13 of "An Interesting Case" and /u/altarp2308 wanted Hetty to scold Deeks about leaving something out, so this chapter was born. It takes plae immediately after the event of the final chapter of "An Interesting Case" Hope you enjoy!**

Deeks couldn't help but feel a glow of pride as he watched all of his friends sort themselves out so they go to his bar. _His_ bar. He still couldn't believe it sometimes - he owned a _bar_. A good one too, if he could say so himself. And he did. Say so. It had to be good if the team were using it as an after work hang out spot, right? And they tended to stay the evening - going beyond a quick polite pint. They seemed to genuinely enjoy the place.

Which was why he felt so happy hearing them suggest it to finish off the evening. It was a very satisfying ending to an odd sort of day. Okay, he hadn't exactly been _thrilled_ but he soon got into it and enjoyed regaling them all with what happened. Or rather, a sanitised version of what happened. Sort of. There was no need to get their backs up about LAPD than they already were. They seemed to enjoy it. He even got the warm fuzzies over them being all protective of a younger him even if it was quite unnecessary.

He grabbed his own bag and turned to follow them only to almost collide with Hetty. Only her neatly sidestepping him avoided an embarrassing situation from happening.

"Oh, sorry, Hetty!"

Seriously, how did she pop out from out of nowhere like that? It was unnatural. Which was pretty much the best way to describe Henrietta Lange.

"You did not collide with me so all is fine, Mr Deeks," she said.

"A close call," Deeks felt the need to point out. "Didn't you leave with the others?"

"I had to return for something."

Deeks found it somewhat doubtful that Hetty had forgotten something. She just didn't do that. Not by accident anyway.

"Oh," was all he offered as a reply.

The two stood in silence for a few moments, as usual, Hetty somehow managing to make him feel small and awkward despite towering over her. If she wanted to say something why didn't she just come out and say it?

"You forgot about the windows, Mr Deeks," she finally informed him.

Deeks felt like he should let out a sigh of relief. Somehow, he was expecting her to say something much worse.

"Uh, the windows?" He repeated, rubbing the back of his head in confusion and then realised what she was referring to. "_Oh_, the _windows_."

"Indeed, Mr Deeks. The windows you have appeared to leave out of your little retelling."

Well, yes, of course he left them out. He wasn't stupid after all. There was really no need to mention the windows anyway. Due to the recent events and all that. Had he mentioned how protective the team got with him when it came to the LAPD?

"Well, it just seemed like it would be a bit, uh, a bit-" he grasped forms word.

"Superfluous?"

"Yeah, that," he said awkwardly, hoping the word meant what he thought it meant.

"Hmm."

He really did hate that noise when it came from her. Somehow, it always made you say more than what you wanted to. It worked now.

"They didn't need to hear about a glass window shattering and showering me in shards of glass," Deeks said with a bit of bravado. "It didn't add anything to the story."

"Hmm."

She was giving him that look that every one of them hated. It was an appraising, scolding and inquiring look all rolled into one. It was the kind of look that made you want to spill your darkest secrets. Who needed 'enhanced interrogation techniques' when you had that look?

"They didn't!"

"What's this about glass?" Sam asked, suddenly reappearing.

Deeks clutched at his chest and spun around.

"What the hell, man?" he demanded.

Sam didn't look too impressed by his theatrics, if the raised eyebrow was anything to go by.

"Just checking to see if you were coming," he said calmly, still with a suspicious look on his face.

"Of course, I'm coming. Why wouldn't I be coming?" Deeks said quickly, lifting his bag. "It's my bar, isn't it?"

Ignoring his babbling, Sam asked again, "What were you saying about glass?"

"That a glass of water would have been better than a bottle for my story-telling," Deeks made up quickly, though not entirely convincingly. "Much better for the atmosphere."

"The only atmosphere we had was anticipation to what you'd manage to pull off next."

Now it was Deeks' turn to give Sam a suspicious look. He didn't know if the man was accusing him of having done something stupid or not.

Sam brushed him off. "Did I hear something about shattering glass?"

"I think I will leave you two to it, gentlemen," Hetty interjected, starting to walk away. "I expect to see you both at the bar in no more than twenty-five minutes."

She got some form of agreement from both of them as they waved their hands in farewell.

"No, you didn't," Deeks tried in response.

"I think I did."

Both men stood with their arms crossed stubbornly, facing each other off. Neither willing to budge. Deeks certainly didn't want to but, unfortunately, he caved first.

"Some LAPD Officer tried a SWAT move by kicking in a window and diving through it," Deeks said as quickly as possible, in faint hope that Sam wouldn't pay much attention or miss something. "I was right under it."

"And you got hurt by the flying glass," Sam finished in a dangerously calm tone.

"Well, yes," Deeks replied matter-of-factly. "But only a little! And nowhere serious like my neck!"

Sam took a deep breath and closed his eyes for ten seconds before opening them again. He looked okay with this information. Sort of.

"Look, you can't tell the rest of the team," Deeks told him. Begged him.

Sam, next to Kensi, was probably the worst person to know about this (did a thrown tyre ring any bells people?) but that didn't mean he wanted the whole team knowing. Who knows what would happen if they did?

"And, why not?" Sam queried, folding his arms. "I thought you didn't want to leave anything out?"

Of course, his words came back to haunt him. Of course, they did.

"This wasn't _exactly_ leaving something out..."

"What would you call it then?"

"Sticking to the major events?"

Sam did not look too impressed by his answer. Which meant that he was probably going to tell the rest of the team. Damn it! Damage control, Deeks, damage control.

"I'll let you have first crack at each new recipe of the beer that comes in," Deeks tried to bribe.

Sam snorted and shook his head.

"That's more like a punishment."

"That's all I'll serve you, then," Deeks quickly amended.

_That_ would be hilarious to do, actually. Even if it might cause him to have an injury. Sam was giving him a look that definitely guaranteed that.

"I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement," Deeks said as he buckled his bag shut. He looked up to see Sam walking towards the door and went to catch up. "Right, Sam? Sam?"


End file.
